


Old Habits Die Hard

by Kedreeva



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Death, College, College Student Stiles, Crossover, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Superwolf, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 14:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13238070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kedreeva/pseuds/Kedreeva
Summary: Derek pays Stiles a visit at college, and meets his new friends, Sam Winchester and Jessica Moore. Stiles realizes he was not the only one missing a certain someone...





	Old Habits Die Hard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LacrimaDraconis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LacrimaDraconis/gifts).



> This was a commission for LacrimaDraconis some three years ago or so, and I just found it while cleaning my folders, so I cleaned it up a bit and decided to share. Happy New Year!
> 
> The prompt was for Stiles and Sam becoming friends at college, and Derek coming to visit.

  
  
  


            The call came in at three o’clock in the morning, which happened to be only an hour after Stiles had finally lost the battle with his ethics textbook and put his head down. He fumbled for his phone, eyes sticky with not enough sleep, brain still fuzzily trying to make sense of his  _ Who Let The Dogs Out _ ringtone.

            “Derek?” he slurred, scrubbing at one eye with the heel of his hand. The phone kept singing at him, and after a moment he started swiping at the screen to make it stop.

            “Stiles?” asked a voice when the noise finally cut off. The screen was too bright, and Stiles put it against his head to make it go away.

            “Did someone die?” Stiles asked, putting his head back down on the open textbook.

            There was no good reason for Derek to be calling him at this hour unless someone had died. Or some other disaster had occurred. Sometimes, Stiles missed living amongst the pack. Sometimes he got calls at 3am, and was reminded how much quieter and less stressful law school was. Somehow he had thought law school wasn’t supposed to be less stressful than normal life, but here he was.

            “What?” Derek asked. “No, why?”

            “Because it is-” Stiles glanced at the Star Wars clock Scott had given him last Christmas “-3:14 in the morning, and you’re calling me.”

            “Shit.” There was rustling from the other end, and Stiles didn’t have to be there to know Derek was looking for a clock. “I’m sorry, Stiles, I didn’t realize it was so late, I can let you go-”

            “Well you’ve already woken me up,” Stiles interrupted, smushing his nose for a second into the warm pages of the book he’d been using as a pillow before sitting up again. “You may as well make it worth it. What’s up?”

            There was a long pause on the other end and Stiles used it to cross to his actual bed. He flopped down onto the messy covers and a second before he opened his mouth to tell Derek to stop debating if it was  _ really _ okay, Derek sighed.

            “I just- I just found out I’m going to be heading out to Sunnydale tomorrow for some… business. It’s not a big deal,” he rushed to say. They both knew that was probably a lie- Sunnydale had even worse supernatural problems than Beacon Hills. “But I thought, since I’d be in the area anyway, that maybe I could come visit for the weekend or something?”

            If Stiles had been sleepy before, he certainly wasn’t now. Since he had moved out, he’d been keeping contact with everyone in Beacon Hills. Scott called him every single day, or Stiles called Scott between classes if he knew he was going to be short on time. Erica and Isaac had some sort of Snapchat war going on where they did their best to take embarrassing pictures of everyone else and somehow Stiles had become the judge. Lydia had moved away for college as well, and kept in touch via e-mail, and Allison sent him texts to tell him how Scott was  _ really _ doing at any given time, as Scott was prone to trying to keep Stiles from worrying about him. Even Boyd, who still didn’t like Stiles much, sent him the occasional message, usually regarding Derek.

            Out of all of them, though, Derek had surprised Stiles the most. He didn’t usually call, but Stiles’ phone was a library of texts between them. It had started off as pictures of the others, updates on how Scott was handling the pack, updates on his father. There were pictures of food he had dropped off at the station. Pictures of Erica’s failed attempt at casserole, and Isaac’s first motorbike so he could take weekend trips with Scott.

            Somewhere along the line, it had shifted to talking, to asking Stiles how things were. There had been nights Stiles was so tired from studying that he gave in to that part of him that desperately wanted to talk to Derek, that part of him that’d had such a crush on the wolf in high school. He’d moved past really caring what Derek thought of it, and into the sleep-deprived territory of texting at length about his days. It had become his way to wind down after rough tests or long classes.

            And at some point, Derek had started talking back. They had started having conversations that had nothing to do with school or pack business. It had somehow become movies and science and whether or not pizza should have pineapple or not. They had become  _ friends _ .

            But they were  _ phone friends _ . Stiles hadn’t been back home yet, and Derek certainly had never suggested coming to visit; they just weren’t friends  _ like that _ . At least, Stiles hadn’t thought so. He had no idea how they would interact once they were in the same place in real life. The last time he’d seen Derek they had barely even looked at each other, and his goodbye had consisted of a clipped  _ maybe it will be quiet around here for once _ .

            “It’s a stupid idea,” Derek said. Stiles could hear the blush, the embarrassment, and realized he’d just been sitting there silently after Derek’s question.

            “It’s not!” Stiles said, sitting up in the bed. His hand felt numb clutched around the phone, and he loosened his grip some. “It’s not stupid, at all. I was just thinking, you know, like, where you would stay. I don’t have another bed-” His belly flopped over at how that sounded “-I mean, I’m sure I could get a cot or something, or-”

            “I can get a hotel,” Derek added in the midst of his outburst.

            “No, it’s fine,” Stiles assured him, rubbing one hand down his face. “It’s- I can find something, you don’t have to stay off campus.”

            “You’re sure?” Derek asked, hesitant. “It’s not a big deal.”

            “Yeah, it’s cool,” Stiles repeated. “I’m pretty sure the RA can get me a cot or something.”

            “Okay,” Derek said. “You… you should probably get back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

            Stiles smiled, and flopped back onto the bed again, relief rushing through him. He hadn’t fucked up too badly, and Derek was coming to visit. He could handle this. “Yeah. I was up late studying.”

            “Test?” Derek asked.

            “Ethics,” Stiles lamented. Stupid freshman gen ed courses. He didn’t need morals. He needed to know the weaknesses of kitsune and the soft spots of dragons and the best food to feed baby sprites you find in the woods. “Shouldn’t be too bad.”

            Derek hummed agreement. “Good luck, then. Good night, Stiles.”

            “Good night, Derek,” Stiles replied. The phone went dead in his hand, and he let his hand drop away from his ear with it.

            Oh god, Derek was coming to visit him.

 

* * *

 

            Stiles knocked sharply on the door and then took a step back, bringing his fingers up to curl together in front of him nervously. He’d told Derek that he could get a cot, but he wasn’t actually sure that was a  _ thing _ , and he wasn’t sure if they were even allowed to have visitors overnight. He’d spent most of the night restlessly thinking about what he was going to do if it was against the rules or if he couldn’t get a cot and what if Derek never wanted to come back because Stiles couldn’t get his shit together and-

            The young woman who opened the door was  _ not  _ who he was expecting. “Jess!” he exclaimed, straightening up.

            “Stiles!” Jess said pleasantly.

            “You don’t live here.” The words tumbled out of Stiles before he could stop them.

            When she laughed, Stiles relaxed a little. He liked her laugh. It was pleasant and soft and only made him sure that he’d amused rather than offended her. “An astute observation,” she told him. “I’m studying with a friend. Kim!” she called, startling Stiles at the sudden volume increase. She smiled at him, giving a small wink.

            The young man Stiles was familiar with as his RA appeared, and gave Stiles a weary look. “Yes?” he asked.

            “Sorry for interrupting!” Stiles said quickly, glancing to Jess. “I- Are we allowed to have visitors overnight?”

            “Yes,” Kim repeated, looking decidedly bored.

            “That’s great!” Stiles exclaimed. “Do we… you, does the building, have, like, a cot I could borrow or something?”

            “Did Scott finally decide to visit?” Jess asked as Kim nodded.

            Stiles gave a little wince. He’d spoken to Jess numerous times before their psychology class together, and he may have lamented once or twice about how little he saw of his best friend. He may also have admitted to her that he spoke to Derek, and why that might be a bad idea. “Not exactly,” he said evasively, then attempted to change the subject. “So how do I get a cot?”

            “I will get one to your room,” Kim said tiredly. He touched Jess’ arm and nodded toward the interior of the room to indicate he was going to leave them alone and go back to studying.

            Jess gave him a small smile and then turned back to Stiles. “Not Scott?” Apparently she wasn’t going to let him get away that easily.

            “Derek,” Stiles admitted, already feeling the heat that climbed up the back of his neck. Okay, the crush might not have gone away when he skipped town.

            She smirked at him, and he rolled his eyes, but she didn’t ease up. “Bring him by,” she suggested. “You know Sam would love to meet him.”

            “Yeah,” Stiles said softly. Sam was Jess’ boyfriend, and in fact had been one of the first people Stiles met when he arrived. Stiles had gotten lost getting to his dorm, and Sam had done more than just direct him there, he’d walked most of the way there with him, chatting about moving and law school and things to do around campus. “Yeah, I will,” Stiles repeated, smiling.

            “Yeah,” Jess agreed, giving another happy laugh. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

            “Ten bucks says I do better on the exam,” he said.

            “Make it coffee on you when I win, and you’re on,” she challenged.

            Stiles snorted, but he waved as he backed away and let her close the door to return to studying. He would probably lose - Jess was very smart - but it was nice to have something to strive for.

 

* * *

 

            The sky was somewhere between wanting to rain and wanting to shine when Derek’s Camaro finally cruised past the front of his building. The windows were down and Derek practically crawled the car past where Stiles was laying in the grass waiting for him. Stiles was quick with directions on where to park and how to get back, and then Derek disappeared into the nearest lot.

            By the time Derek walked up, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket - a jacket that actually fit him, Stiles noted with no small amount of appreciation - Stiles was on his feet, hands smoothing over his legs to brush off imaginary dirt. He hadn’t felt this nervous since Lydia had first started talking to him like a human being. At least he known Lydia couldn’t snap his neck for saying the wrong thing.

            “Hey,” he said, a little proud his voice didn’t waver.

            “Hey,” Derek replied. Yep, as awkward as Stiles had thought it would be. He’d spent so much time with Derek and yet so little time actually  _ talking _ to him.

            “So… how was Sunnydale?” he ventured. That was safe. That was normal. Well. It was some definitions of normal.

            Derek straightened a little at that. “It was… kind of a mess,” he admitted. “The Sunnydale pack knew I was coming as liaison, but… I’m not sure what they expected. My sister, maybe. She dealt with them before we moved to New York; we’d considered running south instead of east, but… the whole town’s kind of run by hunters.”

            “Why did they want to see you?” Stiles asked, relaxing some. Pack business was easy to talk about.

            Derek gave a little shrug. “They need a new emissary, and-” He cut himself off and looked away. “Someone had given them the impression that Deaton was leaving soon. They wanted to know if we could set up a meeting with him, when the time comes.”

            “How’d they find out he wasn’t taken for real?” Stiles asked. The pack wasn’t exactly into sharing their personal information with virtual strangers. They had a hard enough time sharing it among themselves, though they were working on it.

            “Word gets around about some things more than others,” Derek told him vaguely with a little shrug. “But, it’s fine. I went down and talked to them for a while in person, got a feel for them. I think they’d be a good match for Deaton, when you- when he… you know.”

            Stiles wasn’t sure what that meant, so he just made a noise of agreement and then motioned up to his building. “Do you wanna see the place first, or- I have a friend that wants to meet you, so I said we could meet for lunch, if you’re hungry.”

            “If I sit down, I might not get back up,” Derek said with a small smile. “I don’t sleep well in hotels in strange territories.”

            “Lunch it is, then!” Stiles decreed. “It’s not  _ fantastic _ or anything, just a local sandwich shop, but they have killer corned beef sandwiches, and their fries have got, like, nutmeg or cinnamon or something on them. They’re amazing.”

            “I’ll trust your judgment,” Derek said, and then gave Stiles just as weird a look as Stiles was giving him. Derek had literally never said that before in their lives, and it sounded so… alien.

            “Are you feeling okay?” Stiles asked before Derek could open his mouth to correct himself. “Because I swear I just heard you say you’d trust me.”

            Derek rolled his eyes, the familiar exasperated sarcasm returning to his expression. “You must be hearing things,” he said flippantly, but Stiles could see the little smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and for the first time he thought maybe this visit wouldn’t be so bad.

 

* * *

 

            The moment the door closed behind them, Derek stiffened beside Stiles, back straightening. Stiles froze, looking around for the immediate threat, but saw only sleepy-looking college kids in various states of rumpled midterms attire and half-eaten sandwiches and enough coffee to give a herd of elephants a caffeine overdose.

            “What?” he said quietly, knowing no one but a werewolf would hear him at that pitch. His hand was already moving to grab the knife he wasn’t supposed to carry, ready to fight if they had to. It figured that the first time trouble showed up, it would be on Derek’s heels.

            “Hunter,” Derek nearly growled. Stiles gave him a quick glance and then followed his gaze across the diner to… their dining partner.

            Tension flooded out of Stiles and relief rushed in to replace it. “Sam’s not a hunter,” Stiles told him, giving Derek’s arm a gentle whack. “That’s my  _ friend _ , Derek. Be nice.”

            “He’s a hunter,” Derek said firmly, but he followed when Stiles started weaving through the packed diner to get to Sam.

            “He is legit not a hunter,” Stiles replied, and then smiled widely as he reached the table. “Sam!”

            “Hey!” Sam said, unfolding himself from the little diner seat. Stiles wasn’t exactly the shortest guy, and neither was Derek, but Sam had inches on both of them. Despite that, Stiles had always seen him as a kind of gentle giant, especially watching how he acted around Jess. There was no way he was a hunter. “Jess couldn’t make it.”

            “Bummer,” Stiles said, and then stepped aside so that Sam could see Derek better. “Sam, this is my… friend.” They were friends now, he thought. There were pages and pages of texts and even e-mails to attest to the fact that they were no longer frenemies. It was still weird to say aloud, though.

            Stiles could see tension in every line of Derek’s body as he extended his hand to Sam, who took it as though nothing at all was wrong. “Derek Hale,” Derek introduced.

            “Sam Winchester,” Sam replied with a big, puppy-dog smile. “Nice to finally meet you, Derek. Stiles talks about you a lot.”

            “Does he,” Derek said flatly, a stiff, polite smile on his face. Stiles frowned at him, and nudged him toward one of the chairs.

            “I talk about all my friends from back home,” Stiles said quickly, shooting Sam a look next. He could see the shit-eating grin, and wondered why he had ever become friends with the guy.

            “Some more than others,” Sam said, grinning.

            “Oh, shut up,” Stiles told him with an eye roll.

            “College hasn’t made you any less talkative or more articulate,” Derek said as he sat beside Stiles. Sam broke into laughter as Stiles glared at both of them, doing his best to hide his own smile as he watched Derek relaxing. Sam  _ wasn’t _ a hunter, Stiles told himself.

            “You’re just gonna take his side, I see how it is,” Stiles said. “Remember where you’re sleeping tonight, wo-oah.” Stiles trailed off lamely. He picked up the folded-paper menu and quickly tried to look like something had surprised him as both Derek and Sam gave him weird looks. “Sandwiches!”

            Derek turned his attention to Sam, clearly trying to determine if Sam had caught the slip-up. There was no way Derek didn’t know what Stiles had started to say. He had called Derek “wolf” so many times it was practically a nickname at this point. But if Sam noticed, he gave no indication of it.

            “And fries,” Sam said, picking up the other menu at the table and passing it to Derek. “They have excellent fries.”

            “So I’m told,” Derek said as he accepted the offering. Stiles relaxed a little again. “What would you recommend?”

            “The turkey club is pretty good,” Sam suggested. “And it’s not that bad for you, on the whole grain.”

            “Yeah, that’s fantastic if you’re a health nut like Sam,” Stiles interjected. “Orrrr you could get the reuben, which is a freaking pile of corned beef and saurkraut and homemade thousand island dressing and cheese. Get it on sourdough- there’s no bread better than this place’s sourdough.”

            Sam scoffed and made a little face of disgust. “So you lived with this bottomless pit of bad eating habits?” Sam asked of Derek.

            “Believe it or not, he ate a lot healthier at home,” Derek said quietly, folding his menu. “He was taking care of his father, trying to get him to eat better as well.”

            “Oh,” Sam said, looking severely uncomfortable. Stiles had told him how worried he was about losing his dad, as well as his mom. Sam just said  _ I don’t get along with my dad _ and they’d left it at that.

            They were thankfully saved by one of the waitstaff arriving, little booklet in hand. They gave their orders and Derek ended up copying Stiles’ order  _ to be safe _ , he said. Stiles smiled when Sam ordered a to-go sandwich for the end of their meal, so that he could take Jess dinner after her group meeting.

            Once there was food involved, everyone seemed to relax into conversation. They talked about school, for the most part, as they were both currently surviving midterms. Sam suggested Stiles and Derek unwind and come out to the halloween party he would be going to that evening with Jess, but Stiles rescued them to say that he had a test in the morning he needed to study for - his last midterm, thank god - and he’d like to catch up with Derek.

            When they finally left, Stiles found that he was nothing but relieved that it had gone so well. Whatever lingering apprehension Derek had about him, Sam had put to rest by being his typical soft and happy self. As awesome as the supernatural world was, and as awesome as it was to have werewolves and ex-kanimas and banshees and kitsunes as friends, it was nice to have even just one normal, human, unaware-of-the-supernatural friend.

 

* * *

 

            Stiles laid stretched out on his bed, a textbook flopped very helpfully face-down on his chest as he tapped out a message to Scott to let him know they were skipping their nightly talk because Derek was over. Against the wall in the small room, Derek was sitting on the cot that Kim had actually obtained for them. There were even blankets, although Derek left them folded on the floor under the little bed.

            Werewolves, Stiles had found out along the way, ran hotter than humans. He tried not to think about that as he stared up at the ceiling.

            “He’s definitely a hunter,” Derek said, as though commenting on the weather.

            “He’s not a hunter,” Stiles said, not looking over. “You know I test people for involvement with the supernatural. You think I would just make friends with a hunter, Derek? Me?”

            He glanced over in time to catch the face Derek made. “I think the  _ Winchester _ family is good at hiding what they are,” Derek said.

            “Dude, there’s a lot of Winchesters in the world,” Stiles told him, returning to typing. “They don’t all hunt supernatural creatures. And the ones that do don’t take a break to go to law school, I’m pretty sure.”

            “Hm,” Derek said noncommittally. “He knows what I am.”

            Stiles’ phone buzzed with a text, which was strange because he hadn’t sent the one he’d been writing. With a quick face made in response to Derek’s paranoia, Stiles finished his sentence and sent the text on its way, and then tapped down the new message from Derek to view. He glanced over.

            “Funny,” he said, and Derek smiled. “Okay, okay, I’ll put the phone down.”

            “Aren’t you supposed to be studying, anyway?” Derek asked. “Don’t you have a test in the morning?”

            “Yeah, but it’s  _ ethics _ ,” Stiles explained.

            Derek raised both eyebrows at Stiles. “I can’t tell if that’s supposed to reassure me you can do it without studying or inform me you’ll never pass anyway,” he said.

            “Wow, you are full of it tonight,” Stiles said, lobbing the textbook at Derek, who caught it neatly and set it gently down on the floor. With nothing in his hands and nowhere to go, Stiles very suddenly felt out of his depth. “I don’t need to study for ethics.”

            “Not any clearer,” Derek teased. “What time is the exam?”

            “Early,” Stiles said, trying not to look at the clock. 9pm. He made a face. The day had gone too quickly. “It’s my last one, though. I was thinking we could get out of here for a bit tomorrow afternoon. Head up to the bay or something. They’ve got great fish and chips all over the place.”

            “Sure,” Derek agreed, leaning back against the wall. For a long moment he just watched Stiles, sitting too still, and then he cleared his throat. “Do you- Do you want to drive?”

            “You want to take the Jeep?” Stiles said, tipping his head a little in confusion. Derek never wanted to take the Jeep. Derek unfairly hated Roscoe because he had nearly died so many times in it.

            Both of Derek’s brows rose a little as if to say  _ idiot _ . “No,” he said. “I’d prefer not to get into your deathtrap of a vehicle if possible.”

            Stiles took that in, and then sat up much straighter. “You mean- are- did you just ask if I wanted to drive the Camaro? Your precious baby?”

            Derek rolled his eyes. “You haven’t managed to wreck her yet. So, yeah. If you want.”

            “Yes,” Stiles said before Derek had even finished talking. “I would  _ love _ to drive.”

            A small smile tugged at the corner of Derek’s mouth. “Okay,” he said. “But I can barely keep my eyes open after my meetings and all… so I’m gonna sleep.”

            “I’ll be quiet,” Stiles assured him.

            Derek snorted. “You won’t,” he said as he stripped out of his shirt and flopped backward onto the stiff cot. He slung one arm over his eyes and though Stiles didn’t actually  _ count _ , he didn’t think he would have gotten to 10 before Derek was out cold.

 

* * *

 

            Derek was still sleeping soundly when Stiles’ alarm began the death march tune beside his bed. It only got three notes in before Stiles had it off, and he glanced blearily at the cot to see if it had woken the sound-sensitive werewolf. No movement. He relaxed, and laid back down, giving himself just a few minutes of quiet to work his way to wakefulness. He actually  _ had  _ studied until pretty late, and it felt like it now.

            He managed to convince himself that it would all be for naught if he didn’t get his ass out of bed and to his test, and so he managed to slither from beneath his covers and find cleaner clothes than the ones he’d fallen asleep in. He reasoned he could shower when he got back, so he just brushed his teeth, grabbed a granola bar, and bolted out the door just in time to make his test.

            It wasn’t difficult, and he probably could have gotten away with studying for a while less than he had, but it felt good that at least one of his exams was easy. Jess had texted him halfway back to his room to say that their insane ethics professor had already graded  _ and _ posted their exam grades and that he owed her coffee. There was a time and address in the next text and a ridiculously decorated picture of her test score being a point higher than his.

            He weighed the pros and cons of waking Derek up if he was still asleep at the dorm room, and decided he could afford to meet Jess for victory coffee beforehand. The shop was dozy and warmer than the chill air outside and he found Jess nestled into one of the couches with an actual book in her hands instead of a text book.

            Without a word he handed her prize to her, and she took it with a smile. He flopped down onto the other side of the couch, his own coffee in hand, and stared into space for a few minutes. It felt good to just do nothing.

            “Rough night?” Jess asked, just a hint of teasing in her tone.

            Reaching up, Stiles scrubbed one hand over his face and tried to will some animation back into his expression. “I stayed up too late studying.”

            “ _ Just _ studying?” she pushed, smile hidden behind the lip of her cardboard cup.

            Stiles scowled, though he didn’t mean it. “Yes,  _ just _ studying. Derek had a long trip before he came here, so he fell asleep early.”

            “Are you suggesting there might have been other activites if he wasn’t so tired?” Her eyes flashed knowingly when Stiles made a face at her. “Okay, okay. Just friends.”

            “My life is a series of unfortunate circumstances,” Stiles lamented. Something tickled at the back of his mind, and he sat up a little. “This was your last exam, too, right?”

            “Mhmm,” she confirmed, turning the page in her book, dog-earing the corner, and then putting it in her lap. “Why?”

            “What are you doing getting coffee instead of going back to bed?” Stiles asked. She should still be sound asleep with Sam.  _ His  _ last exam was two days ago. “Hanging out with me, no less.”

            A dark look passed over her features before she rolled her eyes. “I had a weird night,” she said. Though she was aiming for nonchalant, she fell far short. “Did you know Sam has a brother?”

            “Yeah, Dean,” Stiles said. Dean had come up once or twice, but Sam hadn’t seemed particularly inclined to discuss any of his family with Stiles. He got the sense that Sam didn’t get along great with any of them. Stiles had always figured Sam felt he had  _ escaped  _ to Stanford. “Why?”

            “He showed up last night,” Jess said, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes and leaning her head back against the couch. “He literally broke into Sam’s apartment, and went sneaking around in the dark. He told Sam he was looking for beer, but I don’t think he was.”

            “Oh,” Stiles said, feeling his heartbeat speed up a little. Sam  _ was not _ a hunter. He wasn’t. “Are they… catching up or something?”

            Jess sighed and shook her head a little. “They took off for god only knows where, in the middle of the night. Sam tried to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal but… he got weird after Dean told him that their father hadn’t been back in a few days. That he was on a  _ hunting _ trip. It’s  _ October _ .”

            The bottom dropped out of Stiles’ stomach.

            A hunting trip.

_             He’s a hunter _ .

            Derek had been right.

            “Did… did they say where?” Stiles managed to choke out.  _ Please don’t say Beacon Hills _ , he thought desperately. They didn’t need more hunters back home. “Or what they were hunting…?”

            “No,” she said. “It sounded like they might’ve been doing more drinking than hunting, though. Sam said he’d be back for his interview tomorrow. It was just really weird, Stiles. I’m not sure I like his family much.”

            “Yeah,” Stiles agreed absently as he pulled out his phone. He shot a text to Derek, but there was no response. Stiles chewed at the inside of his lip for a moment before glancing up to Jess. “Can you watch my drink? I’m just gonna go use the bathroom.”

            “Sure,” Jess said, cracking open her book again. Stiles breathed a thank you as he scrambled up and darted toward the back area of the coffee shop. The phone rang several times and then switched to voicemail. Stiles made a frustrated noise and hung up, dialing back immediately with the same result. “Call me as soon as you get this- you were right. Sam is a hunter.”

            For a second he stood there, leg jiggling, fingers working anxiously over the phone as he tried to decide what to do. Derek was right; Sam was a hunter and that meant his brother was probably a hunter. There was no way Dean had turned up because of Derek; it didn’t take hours to get from Sam’s apartment to Stiles’ dorm. If they wanted Derek dead, they would have come before now. At least that’s what he told himself as he dialed Derek’s number again.

            But Derek wasn’t picking up, and maybe the hunters just hadn’t wanted human witnesses. Maybe they had just been waiting for Stiles to leave.

            “Come on, come on,” he begged, but Derek’s voicemail chimed in his ear again, and he hung up without leaving a message. He had to get back.

            Jess gave him a look when he reappeared to scoop up his coffee and give her a smile that clearly wasn’t genuine. “I’m sorry, Jess, I gotta bolt,” Stiles apologized, mind raking up possible excuses that she wouldn’t take offense to. “Derek’s uh… up.”

            “I’ll bet.” She smirked, but waved him off with one hand. “Go on then. You owe me more coffee for abandoning me for loverboy, though.”

            “Deal,” Stiles said, breaking into a real smile. “Thank you, thank you.”

            He didn’t miss the eye roll she gave him as he darted out of the shop. The walk across campus was nerve-wracking, and three more calls to Derek did not produce any amount of reassurance. Stiles practically flew up the stairs to his floor and didn’t bother closing the door behind himself as he thundered into his dorm.

            “Derek?” he called. Though there was no movement in the room, there was also no blood or sign of a struggle. Either the Winchesters hadn’t been here, or they had learned how to clean up their messes so well even Stiles couldn’t tell.

            Then he spotted the lumpy form on his bed, the covers pulled up exactly how he hadn’t left them, and his stomach did something caught between dread and relief that made him a little dizzy. “Derek?” he said quietly.

_             Please don’t let it be a body _ , Stiles pleaded to whoever was listening.

            He crossed the room and tentatively reached out to peel up the corner of the comforter. That was definitely a foot. Definitely  _ Derek’s _ foot Stiles decided. After a slow breath, he reached out and ran a fingertip gentle up the arch of Derek’s foot, letting out a sigh of relief when Derek twitched away from the touch, his gruff voice grumbling out wordless complaints.

            “You asshole!” Stiles said loudly, grabbing the end of the covers and yanking them off of Derek all at once. “If your phone rings, you-”

            Derek squinted at him in the morning light, sitting up on his elbows. “You’re back,” he slurred, sleepy and struggling to be conscious again. Somewhere in the back of Stiles’ mind, he registered that Derek really must not have slept for the days he was in Sunnyvale.

            “You’re naked!” It wasn’t  _ technically _ true, Derek was still wearing boxers, but Stiles’ brain had short circuited somewhere just south of Derek’s collarbone. “In my bed!”

            The flush that colored Derek’s skin as he sat up did nothing to help Stiles collect himself. “I’m not naked,” Derek groused, scrubbing tiredly at his face. “I didn’t think you’d be back before I woke up. Why are you yelling?”

            “Because Sam is a hunter!” Stiles exclaimed.  _ That _ , at least, seemed to wake Derek up some. Stiles continued as Derek slid out of bed and collected his neatly folded clothing from the edge of the cot. “His brother came and got him last night. Jess says their father was on a hunting trip and hadn’t checked in. I thought- I thought- I tried to call you, and you didn’t pick up.”

            There was a reason he didn’t like the way his voice cracked over the last few words, but he couldn’t remember what it was with the way Derek just stood there, clothes grasped in his hands, staring at Stiles.

            “My phone was on silent,” Derek said softly in apology. He shifted a little, like he wanted to move forward and had stopped himself. “I’m okay, Stiles.”

            “I know,” Stiles said. He didn’t sound like he’d known. He didn’t  _ feel _ like he’d known. “I just-” Whatever he’d been about to say stuck in his throat. “Just turn on your stupid phone, okay?”

            There wasn’t a lot of space to escape to in the room, but Stiles retreated a step anyway, intent on giving Derek space to change into clothes or reach the bathroom or something. Instead, Derek took a step toward him, and then another, until he was standing right in Stiles’ personal space. He didn’t say anything until Stiles huffed and looked at him.

            “I’m sorry I worried you,” Derek said once he had Stiles’ attention. He had the nerve to smile at the flush that colored Stiles’ jawline.

            “I wasn’t  _ worried _ , furball,” Stiles said, putting a forearm against Derek’s bare chest and pushing lightly at him. It wasn’t enough to prove he, in fact, meant it. Which was fine, because he didn’t, but he also didn’t need Derek to know that. “Scott would be mad at me forever if you got killed on my watch.”

            “Mm,” Derek agreed, leaning forward just a little into Stiles’ forearm. “And Scott’s the only reason you came tearing in here looking for me?”

            “Yeah,” Stiles said, knowing Derek could hear the blip in his heartbeat, knowing that Derek could probably  _ smell _ what effect he was having, standing so close and wearing so little. Their rounds of texting had not prepared Stiles for this, no matter how much subtle flirting they had done.

            “Okay,” Derek said, taking the minute pressure off Stiles’ forearm as he leaned back and started to step away.

            Before Stiles applied any amount of thought, he found himself reaching out to stop Derek. “No,” he corrected himself, wincing internally as Derek paused. “He isn’t- I- I would be upset if you… went away,” he finished lamely. His eyes flicked up to catch Derek’s, and he gathered whatever sense of self-preservation he might have had left and tossed it away. “I missed you.”

            The smile that touched Derek’s lips was worth the embarrassment of his admission. “I missed you too,” Derek echoed. “That’s why I’m here, right?”

            Whatever brain capacity Stiles had managed to recover shorted out at the words. Of course Derek was there to see him but he couldn’t be there to  _ see him _ . Not to see Stiles just because he  _ missed  _ Stiles. Except for the way he actually totally was, apparently.

            “Oh,” he said softly, voice strangled. Derek managed to turn his laugh into a snort, and slipped his wrist from Stiles’ grasp.

            “You’re such an idiot,” he said, then raised his nose a little and sniffed the air. “Did you at least bring me back coffee?”

            “Coffee!” Stiles exclaimed. “Oh my god, I just bailed on Jess to come rescue you! She thinks we- oh no. Nooo,” Stiles groaned.

            “We can go back,” Derek offered, shaking out his shirt and looking like he was debating whether or not he really had to wear it out. “Maybe after a shower.”

            Stiles opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to find anything to say that wasn’t lewd, and finally settling on just putting his hands up in surrender. “Fine,” he said, overdramatically waving Derek toward the bathroom while trying to keep a grin off his face. Derek just gave him a smirk, and if he didn’t quite close the door behind him, Stiles decided he wasn’t going to notice.

 

* * *

 

            Jess was still there by the time they turned up at the coffee shop. Stiles gave Derek his order (“you’re buying, for  _ worrying _ me”) and threaded through the now-more-crowded shop to get to where Jess was curled up on the same chair. She glanced up when he plopped down into the nearest seat, and chuckled.

            “Rough morning?” she asked, all cheeky smiles.

            “Oh come on,” Stiles sighed, though he had figured she wouldn’t let him off easy. “I just thought I left the stove on.”

            “You don’t own a stove,” she said, eyes flicking back down to her book long enough to note the page before she folded the corner and put the book on the table in front of them.

            “Which makes it all the more worrisome that I might have left it on,” Stiles told her seriously. He lowered his voice, tossing a glance to where Derek was standing in line, glaring up at the virtual  _ walls _ of coffee choices. “Perfect gentleman, slept on the cot and everything.”

            “Really?” Jess said, making a little face. “And you didn’t sleep on the cot too?”

            “Have you seen the cot?” Stiles asked. She nodded, accepting that unfortunate truth. “I get back, and he’s  _ in my bed _ .” Her eyes widened, and he nodded agreement. “In  _ boxers _ .”

            She glanced over her shoulder to see Derek, who was glaring so hard at Stiles there should have been burn marks by now. Stiles gave a little smile and wave, and Jess joined in. “Okay, and then?” she said through her smile.

            “No and then,” he said with a little sigh. “I told him what happened with Dean, and that I left you here. He insisted on coming back to keep you company while Sam is gone.”

            “Really?” Jess asked, giving Stiles a doubtful look, one that should absolutely have called his bullshit. Stiles almost admitted the truth, but he still felt bad about bailing on her, especially since there had been no emergency.

            “Scout’s honor,” Stiles said, holding up the wrong fingers.

            “Are you gonna… you know,” she said. “Tell him how you feel?”

            Stiles’ heartbeat shot up at the question, and he knew that no matter what other noise there was, Derek had heard the question and his reaction. What he’d been telling Jessica he’d been saying because he wanted Derek to hear. He’d been teasing Derek. Now Derek wasn’t looking over with anything but curiosity, his head tipped just a little, inclined just-so to let Stiles know that he’d hear whatever answer was given.

            “I- I don’t know,” Stiles said honestly, meeting Derek’s eyes. God this wasn’t the place for this conversation. There were too many people and too much distance between him and Derek. Too much room for misunderstanding. “He said he came here because he missed me. That’s a good sign, right?”

            “Yeah, Stiles,” she said in a way that made it sound like an insult. She glanced over at Derek, who had turned back to the menu as soon as she started to move. “And if he’s a jerk about it, I’ll help you bury the body, yeah?”

            Stiles choked on air trying not to laugh as Derek’s spine straightened and his eyes widened at the threat. “Derek? A jerk?  _ Never _ .”

            It was Derek’s turn at the counter then, and a moment later he arrived with a winning smile and the most chocolatey dessert the shop offered for Jess. He set the offering on the table before her and then passed Stiles one of the two cups in his other hand. Stiles made grabby hands and then wrapped both hands around the mug and took a big sniff.

            “You must be Jess,” Derek said as he took a seat across from Stiles. “It’s good to meet you. Stiles thinks very highly of you.”

            “Derek, right?” Jess said. Neither one of them extended their hands to the other, but Jess picked up the plate with the dessert and nodded her thanks to him. “I like him, Stiles. You should keep him.”

            “Yeah,” Stiles agreed, feeling the heat of a blush under his skin as Derek smirked at him.

* * *

 

            They ended up spending the afternoon with Jess as well, following her back to the apartment. Derek had insisted that she not spend the time without Sam alone, though Stiles knew it was more because they needed to look for clues, evidence of what Sam was, of where he had gone. Stiles felt bad keeping Jess distracted with baking cookies while Derek scoped out the place, snooping into every nook and cranny.

            Thankfully, Jess didn’t seem to notice. She taught Stiles Sam’s favorite recipe for cookies, and he wrote down his mother’s recipe for chocolate chip cookies. They made two batches and Derek got to be the test subject when he returned. Jess accused him of favoritism when he chose Stiles’ cookies over hers, and even though Stiles knew that wasn’t true - after all, his mom’s cookies were the  _ best _ \- it still pleased him to think she was right.

            Sam called sometime after the sun had set, to say that he was on his way home, that they were only a few miles out of town now. They hadn’t found his father, but he had an interview in the morning that he couldn’t miss, and Dean had agreed to bring him back. Sam swore he would explain more to Jess when he got in, and that he was sorry for just leaving so suddenly.

            “We should… probably go,” Stiles said when she finally hung up. “You two are gonna want to catch up when he gets in.”

            “Yeah,” Jess said, giving a little nod. “Think I’ll just shower and get ready for bed before he gets here.”

            Stiles gave her a hug and Derek nodded to her the same way as they had when they met. Stiles wasn’t going to ask what that was about, he just herded Derek toward the door, thanking Jess for the company. She made sure that they left with some of the cookies they had baked, much to Derek’s pleasure.

            “I like her,” he declared through a mouthful of cookie as they moved around a guy entering the building. Stiles thought he recognized him as one of Sam’s friends - Brendan? Brady? Bradley? - and wondered if he was going to say hello. Stiles didn’t care enough to stop him, though. He just wanted to get home.

            “She’s nice,” Stiles said absently as they began the journey back to his dorm building. They hadn’t found anything to say that Sam was a hunter; no weapons, no bestiary, no journals. Nothing. Stiles had never gotten the feeling that Sam was a hunter, either, despite having known him for months now.

            Behind them, a sleek black car growled into view, and Derek stiffened, shouldering Stiles into the shadows away from the streetlamp they were passing. Stiles protested until he saw Sam getting out of the vehicle, and someone who could only be his older brother sitting behind the wheel. Neither of them looked particularly happy, and Stiles wished he could hear what they were saying. He prodded Derek’s arm.

            “The driver wants Sam to go with him,” Derek said quietly. “Sam… you were right, Stiles. Sam told him he got out of the life.”

            Stiles made a face. “You don’t  _ get out of the life _ ,” he commented derisively. There was no  _ out _ once you learned about the supernatural. It was everywhere. It was in the shadows and in plain sight- it was all around you if you knew what you were looking for. More than anyone, hunters knew that.

            “Well, apparently Sam did,” Derek affirmed. “The other guy isn’t happy about it.”

            “That’s his brother,” Stiles supplied, squinting to see. Sam patted the top of the dark, old Impala and then turned his back on Dean. Stiles and Derek waited in the shadows for Dean to leave, but he just sat there, both hands on the wheel, looking like he might murder someone at any second.

            “He doesn’t know you,” Stiles pointed out. “He doesn’t know you’re a werewolf. We could just go home, it’s not like he could tell.”

            “Yeah, good plan,” Derek said sarcastically, earning him a face from Stiles. “We can just leave without figuring out where the hunter is going to go next.”

            Stiles sighed and didn’t bother with a retort because Derek was right. Especially if this were a true Winchester hunter, they needed to know his plans. If he was going to stay or leave. It certainly didn’t look like he was going to leave.

            In fact, Dean was just snarling at nobody and yanking open his car door when the first explosion rattled the windows of the nearby buildings.

            Flames licked out of the second story windows that had blown out, and Stiles and Derek watched helplessly as glass rained down upon the car below. Dean scrambled out of the car and instead of fleeing, they watched him run  _ into _ the burning building. Both Derek and Stiles stood gaping for a split second before Stiles shook himself out of it.

            “That’s Sam’s apartment!” he cried out, stepping toward the incident. In the distance, the wail of a fire engine began. Derek reached out and grabbed his shoulder, frozen in place as he watched the fire burn, breath coming in short, raspy gasps. For a split-second, Stiles was torn between running to help Sam, Jess, and Dean, and staying to keep Derek grounded.

            Then the door burst open and Sam and Dean spilled out of it. Sam was screaming for Jess, fighting against his brother, who basically threw him onto the hood of the Impala. Even across the distance, Stiles could hear what he was shouting back at Sam.

_             She’s dead, Sam. She’s dead. We have to go. We have to get out of here. We can’t save her. _

            Stiles swallowed thickly, taking a step back toward Derek as he watched his friend lose it, yelling back at Dean until all that was left was shaking. Until Dean pried him off the Impala and wrapped him in a hug and their voices were too low for Stiles to hear anymore.

            A few minutes later, a fire truck screamed into view, blocking off the end of the street, and Stiles watched Dean go stiff and formal, and Stiles knew that he had to get over there. He had just lost a friend, but Sam had just lost the love of his life. The fire was still burning and Dean didn’t look like he was going to make anything easier as the officer who approached them started asking questions.

            Stiles tugged gently at Derek’s arm as the water began to splash up into the building, and Derek turned a blank stare to him like he’d lost his mind. “We have to go over there,” Stiles said softly as an ambulance and two police cars joined the fray. “We’re witnesses.”

            “Yeah,” Derek said, mind clearly elsewhere. “Yeah, okay.”

            They crossed the street and Stiles held up both hands as an officer moved to intercept them. There were people gathering in the street now, and Stiles knew he had to differentiate himself from them. “Officer,” he greeted.

            “We need everyone to stay back,” the officer told him, blocking his path.

            “We were just inside that building,” Stiles said. “Just before it caught fire. We saw what happened.” He indicated where Dean was guarding a distraught Sam. “Those are my friends. The tall one’s girlfriend was inside. Can we please speak to them?”

            The cop glanced over at the brothers, and then back to Stiles and Derek. Finally, he moved out of the way. “Gary, friends,” he called to the other officer, the one talking quietly to Dean. “Get them all back.”

            Gary nodded, and began herding Sam and Dean toward the other side of the street, and Stiles nodded his thanks to the officer that had helped them. He grabbed Derek’s forearm and began steering him on an intercept course toward the brothers. Dean gave them both a scathing, dangerous glare as they approached.

            “Sam?” Stiles called, ignoring Dean’s look. Derek wouldn’t, but there was nothing Stiles could do about that. Stiles was in damage control mode, and his focus had narrowed to getting to Sam. “Sam, hey.”

            “Stiles?” Sam asked, brows furrowing in confusion. He threw a glance up to the building, and then back to the duo standing beside them now.

            “Yeah, Stiles,” Stiles affirmed. Dean was standing in just such a way as to stop Stiles from touching Sam, which was irritating but not going to chase him off. Unfortunately, the officer who had trailed after them looked like he just might try. “Can we help you, sir?” Stiles said respectfully.

            “You said you were just up there?” Officer Gary asked, pointing with his pen toward the dying flames.

            “Yeah,” Stiles said. “We were keeping Jess - his girlfriend - company until she heard from him. She… she was baking- we were baking cookies waiting for Sam to call.”

            “And where was Sam?” the officer asked, eyebrows rising. Two guys keeping Sam’s girlfriend company and Sam being alright with it didn’t seem particularly plausible, and Stiles realized it as Dean was straightening up to answer for Sam.

            “His brother just came to town for a visit,” Stiles said before Dean could speak. Dean shot him a withering look, but Stiles just raised both eyebrows. “They were out catching up, right, Dear?” Stiles said, switching his attention to Derek and slipping his hand into Derek’s.

            Derek looked down at their joined hands, along with everyone else. The cop seemed to relax immediately, and Dean looked a little confused. Sam was just staring blankly up at the second story window.

            “Uh, yeah,” Dean said not-at-all-winningly. “Grabbing some grub. I don’t live around here so I was just checking up on my little brother, you know.”

            “Yeah,” Officer Gary agreed. “My little brother’s up at school here. I’m only fifteen minutes away and I still feel like I never see him. I know how that goes.”

            There was a commotion across the street, and two soot-covered residents exited the building escorted by a fireman. Stiles didn’t even look at them, just watched Sam’s lack of reaction. He recalled the way Dean had shouted that Jess was dead, and without a doubt he knew that they both had seen it happen. They knew.

            “Sir,” Stiles said softly. “Could we maybe… you know, have a little bit? Sam’s not… you know. My dad is a sheriff, I’ll make sure no one goes anywhere, for statements and stuff, and your partner looks like he’s got his hands more than full right now, soo….”

            The officer glanced over his shoulder to where his partner was helping another young person stumble out of the building, taking her from the hands of the fireman who dove right back in. Gary winced, and nodded to Stiles. “Yeah, that’s good. Thanks,” he said to Stiles, and then headed back toward the action.

            “Slick,” Dean said the moment the guy was out of earshot. “We don’t need your help, kid.”

            “I’m not a  _ kid _ ,” Stiles bit out, ignoring Dean and moving to put his hand on Sam’s arm. “Sam?”

            Sam turned glassy eyes to him. “You said you were baking,” he said softly.

            Derek moved forward then, and Sam looked over at him instead. For a moment, no one moved, and then Derek held up the plate of cookies Jess had given to him to take back. Sam’s eyes dropped to the little, lumpy treats, and then slowly tracked back to Derek’s face.

            “I lost my family to a fire, too,” Derek said, voice thick.

            Slowly, Sam reached up and accepted the plate.

 

* * *

 

            By the time they made it back to Stiles’ dorm, Stiles was too tired to even grieve. They’d stuck around for Sam for hours, watching as people were evacuated, watching as people gathered in a huge crowd all around them. Watching as they eventually pulled Jess’ body from the wreckage. Sam hadn’t reacted, had just stared across the street as they bundled the black bag into a truck.

            Eventually, Dean had convinced them that it was better if they left. Arrangements were made for the residents to be housed overnight, and Stiles wrangled a promise out of both Dean and Sam that they wouldn’t take off before noon. Stiles wasn’t sure he believed either one of them, since he knew what hunters thought of civilians, but it would have to do.

            “Are you okay?” Derek asked as soon as the door was shut.

            “No,” Stiles said, toeing off his shoes. “I don’t think it’s really hit yet. We just… she…”

            “Yeah,” Derek agreed. He stood awkwardly by the door for a few heartbeats and then decided better of it, and moved to Stiles’ side. Without a word, he wrapped Stiles into a hug.

            Something inside of Stiles cracked at the unexpected comfort, and he found himself clinging to Derek, nose buried in his collarbone. He knew that there were tears soaking into Derek’s shirt, and he could feel himself shaking, but it didn’t really register. Things were supposed to have been different here. He was supposed to catch a break from the supernatural for a while.

            “Bed,” Derek said gently a while later.

            Stiles wiped at his eyes, nodded as he stepped out of the circle of Derek’s arms. He let Derek unbutton his overshirt, watched thick fingers fiddle with the button on his jeans and then those were gone as well. Somewhere there was a protest to be made, but he couldn’t find it as Derek tossed his jacket over the nearest chair and slipped out of his own jeans. He let Derek lead him over to the bed, and crawled in beside him.

            “Thank you,” Stiles said as Derek pulled him in close.

            “Sleep,” Derek said, pulling the cover up over them against the chill air.

            Stiles was sure that Derek said something else, but he was too far gone to register what it was.

 

* * *

 

            Stiles only slept for a couple of hours before extracting himself from Derek’s grasp and sneaking out of the dorm building again. The first rays of dawn were clawing over the horizon, and the scent of charred wood and singed flesh still clung to the air as Stiles stepped outside. He walked to the little all-night diner on the corner and got three coffees to go before heading down to the building where the fire survivors were being housed.

            Parked outside the building was Dean’s sleek Impala, and Dean was walking Sam out of the building. Stiles kept his smirk to himself as Dean shot him a dirty look. They’d clearly meant to skip town before Stiles could get back to them. Before the cops could talk to them. They were a different sort of hunter than the Argents. Assassins, more like. Stiles had dealt with their sort, too.

            “Morning,” Stiles greeted, offering the two remaining cups of coffee. Sam took one and nudged Dean until Dean took the other, still looking sour about it.

            “We’re leaving,” Dean said gruffly.

            “Yeah, I got that, thanks,” Stiles said just as sharply. “I came to say goodbye. Does Sam need your permission to say goodbye to his friend?”

            Dean scowled, but Sam laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “It’s fine, Dean,” he said.

            Stiles shot Dean a look and Sam motioned for Stiles to move away from the car. Dean leaned against the side of the Impala and grudgingly took a sip of the admittedly terrible coffee. That he didn’t seem to notice it was awful said something about his life, though it was something Stiles didn’t have time to examine.

            “It wasn’t the oven,” Stiles said as soon as they trailed to a stop.

            Sam nodded. “I know.” Then he gave Stiles a strange look.

            “I turned off the oven myself, Sam,” Stiles said with a little shake of his head. “I went over it a thousand times in my head last night. That fire, it wasn’t natural. We were in your apartment not five minutes before that window blew out.”

            “Yeah, well… apartment fires aren’t usually  _ natural _ ,” Sam excused.

            “No, I mean… like, supernatural,” Stiles said, slanting a sideways glance at Sam for a reaction. Sam straightened up and gave him an odd look, and Stiles held up a hand to stop him. “I don’t want an excuse. I know about… all that stuff. I’m not a hunter, but I have hunter friends.”

            "You should stay out of it, if you can,” Sam said dejectedly. “It’s dangerous. I should have kept Jess out of it.”

            “You couldn’t have known this would happen,” Stiles said. “Whatever this was.”

            “Demon,” Sam said weakly. He shook his head. “The same one that got my mother and set my dad hunting.”

            Stiles let out a soft noise of sympathy. “Ouch. I was possessed by a fox demon once. Not fun stuff.”

            Sam made a noise of agreement. “Then you know how dangerous it all is. Get out, if you can. And ditch your friend, Derek, while you’re still alive to do it. As nice as he is, he’s a werewolf.”

            “I know,” Stiles said, and that got him a surprised look. He wasn’t sure why- he wasn’t  _ blind _ . Stiles looked away, up to the grey-red dawn sky. “Are you going to tell your brother?” Stiles got the feeling that Dean wouldn’t let the knowledge alone. Sam might, but not Dean.

            “Has he hurt anyone?” Sam asked after a moment.

            “No,” Stiles said. It was not exactly true, but Sam didn't need to know that. “No one human, anyway.” He wasn’t about to try to explain Paige. “He protects my hometown with my best friend and some others. They’re good people.”

            Sam stared at him for a long moment, and then took a sip of his coffee. He made a face, and Stiles cracked a small smile. At least one of the brothers had taste buds left. “Then, no,” Sam said. He glanced over his shoulder at Dean, who was very pointedly not looking at them. “I should go.”

            “You ever coming back?” Stiles asked. He didn’t miss the look Sam gave to his old apartment building. His old new life.

            “No,” Sam said. “Not here, not if I can help it.”

            “You going to get out after your find your dad?” Stiles asked, turning his body to give Sam the idea it was okay to leave, that they could walk back to the car together. “Jess told me why you left.”

            “Maybe,” Sam said, turning back as well. “You determined to stay in for Derek?”

            “For all of them,” Stiles said with a little wincing smile. “I got a whole pack of puppies back home to take care of. They don’t bite, though. They’ve got an alliance with the Argents, if that helps you sleep at night.”

            “Ah,” Sam said. “I thought I recognized that last name. Hale.” They walked the rest of the way in silence.

            “Take care of yourself,” Stiles told him as they reached the Impala. “Pleasure meeting you, Dean.”

            Dean made a face and Sam rolled his eyes as he moved for the far side of the car. “You, too, Stiles. Maybe we’ll see you again someday.”

            “Hope not,” Stiles said.

            Sam just smiled and clambered into the passenger seat. Stiles raised his cup to Dean as the other boy got in as well, and the Impala roared to life. He watched until it was out of sight, and then turned to head back to his dorm.

 

* * *

 

            Derek was waiting for him when he returned. Stiles shuffled out of his shoes and then went to sit on the edge of the bed beside Derek. Without speaking, Derek leaned into Stiles’ side, offering support without demands. They sat like that for a while, until Stiles took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

            “Well, they’re not coming back here,” Stiles said.

            “And your friend?” Derek prompted.

            “He’ll be okay, I think,” Stiles said. “Well, not  _ okay _ , but he’ll survive it. I hear you get good at surviving loss when you’re a hunter.”

            “Yeah,” Derek said. “And you? You lost a friend, too.”

            “Yeah,” Stiles agreed, but he didn’t know what else to say. Jess hadn’t been the best friend he had here, but she wasn’t a stranger, and they certainly hadn’t been on a path to growing apart. He had liked her. She reminded him of Allison. He wondered if she knew about the supernatural. He wondered if Sam would ever have told her.

            “What are you gonna do?” Derek asked a little while later. “About the fire.”

            Stiles sighed again. “I don’t- I don’t know. Call Deaton maybe. See if Chris wants to come up and scope it out. He’s been looking for something to get into. There’s probably nothing we can do that Sam and Dean aren’t doing or going to be doing. Sam says it was a demon. Says it got his mom, too… seems personal.”

            “Maybe we should stay out of it then, just this once,” Derek suggested gently.

            “What are you going to do?” Stiles asked, glancing over. “Don’t you have to head home today?”

            “Nah,” Derek said with a small shrug that moved Stiles’ arm as well. “I can stay another night, if you don’t want to be alone.”

            “You don’t have to,” Stiles said, looking down at his hands in his lap.

            “Are you kicking me out?” Derek asked, drawing Stiles’ attention back to him.

            “No!” Stiles said quickly, scowling at the way Derek grinned back.

            “Well, then I’ll stay,” Derek concluded. He reached over, nudging his fingers under Stiles’ and letting them intertwine. “I want to.”

            Stiles’ stomach gave a little swoop and he nodded. “Okay,” he managed.

            On some level he understood what Derek was saying, what it meant that he’d come here to see Stiles just because he missed him. He understood the significance of Derek wanting to stay here with him even though he had things to do back in Beacon Hills, that he hadn’t been bothered Jess assumed they were together, or that Stiles had taken his hand at the scene of the fire. He knew it meant something that Derek was holding his hand now, of his own free will.

_             Are you gonna… you know, tell him how you feel? _

            Jess’ words rattled around in his head.

_             I don’t know _ .

            He had to, though, he thought. Of course he had to.

            His fingers tightened in Derek’s. “I- I used to talk to Jess about you,” he said before he lost his nerve. “Sometimes I would drop by to see Sam, and she’d be there and he was out, and she’d invite me in anyway, and she- and she found out about you. About how I… I like you, Derek.” He swallowed down the nerves that threatened to start him shaking as he looked up to meet Derek’s eyes. “She would tell me  _ just tell him, Stiles _ . Every time.”

            “I heard,” Derek told him. “In the coffee shop.”

            “I know,” Stiles said.

            “I like you too,” Derek said. “I have for a long time, now.”

            “Oh,” Stiles said eloquently.

            He wasn’t sure what he expected. It wasn’t supposed to be this easy, or at least he didn’t think so. This wasn’t half as dramatic an admission as he was expecting his confession to go. He just felt too tired to make a big deal of it, and he just… didn’t want Derek to disappear and leave it unsaid between them.

            Derek let out a soft puff of laughter, and then leaned over to press a kiss to Stiles’ temple. “Nothing has to happen right now, Stiles,” he said quietly. “I know you only got a couple hours of sleep, and you’ve been through a lot in the last few hours.”

            “One step at a time,” Stiles recited. His dad used to tell him that when he started getting ahead of himself as a kid.  _ First thing’s first _ , his dad would say. “Sleep first,” Stiles decided.

            “Okay,” Derek agreed, scooting so that he could get up. He stopped when Stiles grabbed onto his arm.

            “Stay,” Stiles said hopefully. He gave a half-nod to the bed, inviting Derek back in. He wasn’t sure how to say that it had been nice, falling asleep next to Derek, knowing there was someone right there if he needed them. He hadn’t had that in a while.

            Derek smiled, and let Stiles lead him into the bed. Gratitude washed through Stiles as Derek curled up around him, not bothering with any of their clothing this time. 

            Warmth settled in his belly as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Derek’s collarbone.

            Maybe everything really would be okay again.

  
  



End file.
